Dancing in the Dark
by twelveisagoodone
Summary: He rubbed his hands together, his tired eyes roaming around the place as if he was expecting to find something different. And it hurt. Not something. Someone. He felt the cold running down his spine, spreading through his chest to his limbs.


_**Thanks to Misswinterseat for her help and suggestions!**_

 _ **Hope you all enjoy this little story, and send me you comments as usual!**_

* * *

The heavy silence of his empty house saluted Malcolm when he got in and it was only disturbed by the low click of the door closing at his back and the sound of metal against wood when he carelessly discarded his set of keys on the small table next to the door.

His overcoat and suit jacket were tossed over the couch and he crossed the living room to adjust the heater to a more comfortable temperature. He rubbed his hands together, his tired eyes roaming around the place as if he was expecting to find something different. And it hurt. No, not something.

 _Someone._

He felt the cold running down his spine, spreading through his chest to his limbs. That awkward sensation, not so familiar but also not unknown, wasn't the kind of cold that would vanish inside an old and comfy jumper or with a higher temperature set at the heater. It was something else, something that he tried so hard to ignore while he went upstairs; something that he had probably been trying to ignore his entire life.

Crossing his bedroom door, a couple more of long strides lead him to the bathroom while his long fingers loosened the knot of his tie. From the mirror, a pair of red-rimmed eyes looked back at him, and it shocked him to see the dullness and tiredness that had stolen the old spark of them. Tired. He was feeling cold and tired, all the heaviness of the happenings of the week finally getting into him.

Some days were just worst than the others, nothing new here. A sigh escaped his dry lips. Maybe he was really getting too old for all that shit.

Malcolm slowly ran a hand through his hair. It was longer than usual, evidencing the abundance of the silver strands where it used to be brown.

When had he gotten all gray? The man in the mirror blinked back at him, more lines around his eyes and mouth than the last time he had really paid attention to his own reflex.

He opened the tap, hoping that the warm water on his face would make him feel better, but nothing was simple as that. Not anymore.

He had had a really bad day, nothing new here, just one more avalanche of shit that he needed to clean up. But usually the silence of his home, his sanctuary, was enough to ease his mind and soothe his heavy heart after everything he had imposed to himself through the day. But not today. Not lately, to be honest.

Lately, his home, the only place that could bring him comfort after a day in hell, only seemed to increase his misery. And then, he started to dread coming back home.

A groan escaped his lips when he let himself fall heavily over his bed, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his hands, the cold threatening to take over his bones, increasing that now too familiar pressure in his chest that sometimes made it hard to breathe.

 _Alone._

No one waiting for him in there, no one to whom to come back, no warm arms to hold him tight after a tough day.

He had never really cared much about that before, not that he had never felt lonely from time to time; but the truth was that he never had the time or the energy to think much about that before.

Besides, it had always been more like a blessing than a curse with the kind of life he had. There was no one to stay awake waiting for him to come back late at night, no one to disappoint for missed dinners and interrupted weekends, no one to hurt with prolonged absences and unpredictable work times.

 _No one._

If it had never really bothered him, so why this now? Why the emptiness of his comfortable house did now hurt him, like a cold hand trying to get a grip at his heart? Why did suddenly the blessing of the silence seem to scream louder and louder at him?

But he knew the answer to those questions too well, didn't he? He closed his eyes for a moment, the memory of her bright smile invading his mind with color and warm. He almost laughed at his pathetic self. He was really fucked, wasn't he?

She and her dimpled smiles and bright brown eyes and warm laughter had just turned his world upside down, making him notice for the first time in his entire life that he had been living in a black and white world. She made him hope and wish for something different, for something more.

Christ! When had he fallen so hard for her?

Malcolm picked his phone from inside his trouser pocket, still debating whether or not he should call her. It was really late; she would be probably asleep by now. Besides, despite the clear evolution of their relationship, he didn't want to seem needy or desperate.

He almost laughed. Who was he trying to fool? He was fucking needy, dying for any moment with her, for a smile, a breath, anything. Because, even if he wasn't able to say it out loud yet, he knew that he could only find peace again in her arms.

There. He had admitted it. He was so very fucked.

He chewed his thumb, scrolling until he found her number on his phone. He could text her. It was a clever thing to do. If she were awake she would answer him. She always did.

" _Hey. Still up?"_

It didn't take longer and his phone buzzed making his heart leap.

" _Yep. Preparing for bed. You?"_

 _"Just got home."_ He entered the next question and hesitated for a moment before he pressed the

send button. Really, really fucked up. " _Too late for a call?"_

Another moment and a new buzz.

" _Never too late for you."_

He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, his foolish old heart beating faster while he pressed the dial button.

"Hey, handsome," her gentle voice sounded on the other side, a happy tone that inexplicably, made him feel a lump forming in his throat.

* * *

"Hey," she heard him swallowing hard. "Sure I'm not bothering you?"

"Absolutely. Actually, I was thinking about you," she smiled. "So, tell me, how was your day?"

A long silence and a low sigh.

"Well, you know," his voice sounded very tired and more hoarse than usual, "Same old, same old."

She furrowed her brows. Something was amiss. "Are you ok, Malc?"

One more long silence. "Sorry, love. I'm just... tired."

No. Not just tired. There was definitely something else. She could sense it in the hesitation of his tone, something so unusual in Malcolm as the lack of any kind of curses in his lasts sentences. There was something disturbing him and, even if the things between them were going very well, she knew that years of building walls around himself wouldn't let him open up that easy. But his call in the middle of the night was all the admission she needed from him by now.

She bit a fingernail. She could go to his place. But Malcolm being Malcolm surely would instantly dissuade her with a dozen of good excuses to why that wasn't a good idea. Showing up at his door without asking him first didn't seem to be a good option either. They weren't there yet.

So she would definitely need a different approach.

"Had a tough week myself," she finally said, trying to get any clue about what was bothering him with no luck. "Do you know something?" She continued when he kept silent. "I bought this new duvet, really soft and fluffy and was wondering if you would like to take a look at it."

Another long silent moment that made her bit her lip while she almost could hear the engines in his brain working.

He cleared his throat. "A new duvet?"

Right, it was really the silliest excuse she managed to come up with, but well, she hadn't lied when she had told him about her hard day and her mind wasn't that sharp at that hour of the night anyway. So, she had to keep going with that. The problem was that sometimes, for a very clever man, Malcolm could be really dense. Or maybe he just had a really bad day.

"Yeah, you know. It made my bed more comfy and warm and... ridiculously empty." A deep breath on the other side. Good, she had finally gotten him.  
"Oh, really?" There was a smile on his voice and that soothed her worries a little bit. "So, what do you say? Unless you're too tired for a trip to this side of the city."

"I'm never too tired for you, love."

"Good," a smile tugged the corners of her mouth.

"And, Malc?"

"Yes?"

She took a deep breath. It shouldn't be that hard since they had already taken the first step, so why did she feel nervous like a schoolgirl? Besides it was only reasonable that if he came to her place so late at night he should sleep there, right?

"Will you stay? For the night?"

She closed her eyes. He hadn't stayed the other night, even after all the romantic dinner and incredible sex, and, though he had been summoned by work, part of her was still unsure that he would've stayed otherwise.

"If you want me to."

Again, the hesitation in his voice that now matched too much with her own insecurities broke her. But she needed to be the tough one because that was the entire point of that late night call: he needed her, even if he wouldn't admit it, and she needed to be there for him. So, to the hell with her doubts, now that she had came that far, she would go for it.

"I'd love to."

His breath at the other side sounded more like relief and all she wanted in that moment was to be able to hold him tight. Sweet darling Malcolm.

"'Kay. I'll be there in a blink."

* * *

He showed up at her door half an hour later in a grey jumper and jeans, the tired look on his face lightly disguised by the soft smile on his lips when their eyes met.

"Missed you," she breathed on his lips when he leaned in to kiss her, deep and tenderly. She held him tight for a long moment, head resting on his chest while he breathed in her hair, feeling his body relaxing against hers. Her fingers caressed his face before she pulled him by the hand to her living room, curling next to him at her small couch.

"Hungry?"

"Nope," he shifted next to her, long arms keeping her close, nose burying in her neck before he planted a soft kiss there.

"Did you eat anything at least?"

She moved away just enough to look at him, seeing the meek smile on his lips, his eyes traveling over her face before he cleared his throat.

"Thai, at the office."

"Thanks to good old Sam, I bet," she smiled when he nodded and leaned into him to rest her head on his chest. "Tea then?"

"Sounds good," he breathed in her neck, sending a shiver down her spine and making it hard for her to stand up.

"Go change while I'll make us some."

She tried to move but he didn't let go of her hand, pulling her into his lap for one more kiss, his lips hot and hungry on hers, unceremoniously taking her breath away, before he let her go.

She stood up with a smile, fighting against her wobble knees and letting her fingers slowly slip from his hand before she walked to her kitchen without looking back, his warm gaze burning holes on her skin.

When she came back a couple of minutes later, she found him back at the couch in a old t-shirt and pajama bottoms, his eyes closed and his head resting at the back of the couch, his long legs stretched in front of him, but she knew that he wasn't asleep.

She placed two mugs at the small coffee table and, sitting beside him, took a moment to study his face. Tired lines surrounded his eyes and mouth and a soft crease rested between his eyebrows. Yet, a beautiful man. Too much for her own sake. With her forefinger she gently traced the curve

of his eyebrows, going down to the line of his cheekbone to his jaw before she moved her fingers up, to tangle them deep in his curls. The tiny movement of his lips up didn't go unnoticed by her when she slowly scratched his scalp.

"Like your hair like this."

He opened his eyes, the light casting flickers of green in the blue of them when he stared gently at her.

"Gray?" His voice again sounded hoarse and he cleaned his throat, eyes still trained on her.

"Longer," she smiled back, playfully pulling a strand of hair behind his ear, "though the silvery locks make you look sexier."

A small laugh escaped his lips and he gently held her hand to place a warm kiss on its palm.

"Still think there is something really wrong with your tastes," he sighed, running his own fingers through his hair.

"It's entirely your fault," she kissed his neck before she sat straight to hand him his mug. "You should know this by now."

He took a long sip and looked at her again. "You have no idea how I was needing this."

She smiled softly and the spark that crosses his eyes for a brief moment told her that he wasn't talking about the tea.

"Now, come on, mister," she stood up tugging at his hand. "Sleep."

"Yes, m'am," he grinned, an eyebrow lifting very lightly. "Besides, I think that I still need to check out that new duvet of yours.

"Exactly," she grinned over her shoulder, heading him to her bedroom.

She settled in the bed against him, head resting on his shoulder, one leg atop of one of his, her hand over the place where his heart beat a little faster than usual making her smile. Malcolm gently placed his larger hand over of hers, entwining his long fingers with her delicate ones, the fingers of his other hand tracing lazily patterns on her arm.

"Malc?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm really happy you're here."

A low sigh escaped his lips before he kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer to him, feeling the sleep start to claim him.

"Me too, love. Me too."


End file.
